A Slip of the Tongue
by harumscarum
Summary: All it takes is a slip of the tongue for two people to finally find one another. HM Oneshot


**Disclaimer: I wish I owned JAG, coz then I could have Harm all to myself! If I did own JAG, Harm and Mac would've gotten together a LONG time ago, but as this didn't happen, nor is Harm all mine, it is obvious that I don't own JAG…sob!**

**This ficlet came to mind after I watched the series finale (it only premiered a few days ago in Australia), but it is set at any stage of Season 10. Actually, it could probably be slotted in at any time during the entire series (after season 2, of course!), it isn't really timeframe specific. Enjoy…**

As she stepped over the threshold of her apartment, she sighed in relief. Another day over, one less day of maintaining the charade. It often became tiresome, pretending that he didn't affect her with his flyboy grin, his swaggering stance, his cocky attitude. Wandering aimlessly through the living room and kitchen, she placed her keys on the coffee table, kicked off her heels and took a seat on the couch, placing her head in her hands. _Why do I let him affect me this way,_ she thought._ Day in, day out, it's been the same ever since we began working together. This stupid dance around my true feelings, keeping them covered up so nothing inappropriate occurs, all the while sacrificing my true happiness. We wouldn't have to do this if we were civilians – that is, assuming he feels the same way about me as I do him._

That was the thing. Aside from a few hints here and there, the odd kiss never to be discussed again, the occasional hug and the incessant flirting; she never really knew where she stood with him. Did he think of her as more than a co-worker, as more than a senior officer, as more than just a friend? Did he ever think of her at all? Or was she just flattering herself to assume that there might be something romantic between the two of them, that he might actually keep a place for her in his heart, like she did him? He was the only person who knew the right answer to that question, and he certainly wasn't telling.

○ ○ ○ **JAG ○ ○ ○**

He lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, tired from the stressful day behind him. And it wasn't even the countless hours spent in the courtroom that was doing it to him; no, it was the avoidance getting to him, wearing him down – avoiding her, avoiding his true feelings and attempting to suppress them. Nothing compared to the amount of energy he put in, day in, day out, in an effort to hide his true feelings from everybody, most of all her. _And even when I do let my guard down, albeit half-heartedly,_ he thought,_ something always gets in the way – girlfriends, boyfriends, work, family – mostly mine, not hers. And I let it get in the way. I do nothing to stop whatever it is from ruining my one true chance at happiness. I know that it would be right with her, if only I could stop myself from messing it all up when push comes to shove._

_But that's just it,_ he mused as he wrenched his head off the bed, forcing himself to sit up, lest he fall asleep. _I'm the king of self-saboteurs. Nobody could stuff things up as many times for themselves like I have, especially when it always involves the same woman._ As he stood up, he began to pace his apartment, anxiety beginning to wear him down._ So why do I keep doing it, time and time again, when I know I'm just hurting the both of us? Maybe it's time for a change?_

○ ○ ○ **JAG ○ ○ ○**

It all seemed so repetitive for her – she'd go to work, assume the persona that stipulated that he was only a friend and co-worker, come home, cook dinner, eat alone, watch TV or do some more work, and go to sleep, only to repeat the same cycle the very next day and every other day that followed. Sometimes she'd mix it up by having dinner at the Roberts', or going to a movie with Harriet, or sometimes by meeting everyone at McMurphy's after work – but those nights at there usually included him, and that meant little reprieve until she went to bed. Once he'd downed a few beers, his hands became more touchy-feely – nothing inappropriate, but just enough to drive her crazy. A touch on her arm here, an accidental grab of her hand there, and sometimes (when he was feeling really relaxed) he even draped his arm over her shoulders in the carefree, half-hearted hug way – not enough to be truly possessive of her, but enough to scare away any other guys she may have been able to use as a distraction. A distraction from him and from her normal life, whisking her away to a world of opportunities. That seemed to be a prerequisite for the men in her life – they enabled her to escape from the things that got her down, setting her free if only for a little while, almost allowing her to forget that her soul belonged to another.

Picking herself up off the couch, she vowed that tonight would be a moment of weakness, a chance to break the routine. Instead of cooking for herself, she'd get take-out. _Wow, don't party too hard, _she sarcastically berated herself,_ you might just never recover from it!_ But, even so, eliminating the whole cooking factor when it was only for one seemed to ebb away at her depressed state, allowing it to disappear, if only momentarily. _I think Chinese food might be the way to go – nothing cheers me up better than eating Chinese food, alone, on a Friday night_ she mused mockingly. But fate seemed to have other plans.

As she picked up the phone to order her dinner, the doorbell rang. She crossed the floor of her living room to the front door in a slow, languid motion, and the impatience of the person on the other side was evident when the doorbell rang for a second time.

"All right, hold your horses," she called out to the person behind the door. "I'll be there in a sec." Peeping through the eyehole, she was surprised to see that there was no-one outside her door – at least, no-one in view. She opened the door and began to step outside to get a better view, only to fall headlong into the lap of the man sitting down outside her apartment.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Her breath caught in her throat as she realised exactly whose lap she was sitting in – his intense gaze was the least thing she'd been prepared for and it was almost more than she could bear.

"That's fine," he murmured, without a trace of his usual cocky guise. "You can sit in my lap anytime."

Subconsciously, the two began to lean into one another, tilting their heads and parting their lips, clearly caught up in the moment. The slamming of a door down the hall jolted the pair to their senses, and she picked herself up, helping him up in the process. Only then did she notice the take-out food containers sitting on the floor beside where they had been sitting until recently.

Following her gaze, realisation dawned on his face and he bent down to retrieve the almost forgotten dinner.

"I come bearing food," he proclaimed, his cocky grin now firmly back in place.

"Well flyboy, you're just in time," she replied as she ambled back inside, pausing in the doorjamb. "Another minute and I would've already ordered my dinner for the night – it's almost as if you're a mind reader!" She took the containers from hands and headed towards the living room, motioning at him to follow and shut the door behind him. "So Commander, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"Well," he began as he crossed over the threshold, "Pizza was going to take too long, I don't like Indian food and you're not a fan of Thai, so I thought that Chinese food would go down well. That, and it was only going to take about ten minutes to prepare, which was the only time conducive to my impatient character!" He took a seat on the living room couch as he watched her empty the bags of their containers onto the coffee table, handing him a set of chopsticks and keeping a pair for herself.

"Wow," she breathed. "Now I really am impressed." She picked up a box of sweet and sour pork and began to help herself, gesturing to him to do the same.

"And why's that Mac?" he asked, inwardly thinking that the mere sight of her eating was enough to drive him crazy. "I mean, we both know that you're always impressed by be, it's just a part of my charisma that I exude…"

"Now there's the arrogant flyboy I know and love!" Internally wincing at her gaffe, she decided to continue as if nothing had happened, hoping he'd follow her lead. "Actually, this time my astonishment stems from a particular source – it just so happens that I was planning to order Chinese just before you arrived. Spooky, no?"

His breath caught in his throat as he attempted to answer her question, but all he could think about was what she had said beforehand – '_Now there's the arrogant flyboy I know and love'…does this mean she loves me…or was it just a slip, like a love between two friends?_

She watched as his face grew pale, internally berating herself for not maintaining the façade. "Harm, are you okay?"

Shaking himself from his stupor, he made to answer her question. "Yeah, I'm fine…what were we talking about again?"

"I was just saying how spooky it is that you brought Chinese food when I was just about to order the same thing." As she spoke, he got up from the couch and began to pace the room as he had done earlier that night in his own apartment, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "Are you sure you're okay?" she queried.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" The weariness was evident in his voice as he posed the question to her, as did the evident desperation for an answer.

His question made no sense to her, and she began to wonder as to his meaning. "Tired of what?"

"This," he emphasised, his agitation shining through his obvious fatigue. "This dance that we seem so intent upon doing for the rest of our lives."

"What dance Harm? You're not making any sense!" She stood up to join him, walking over to where he had paused in his pacing, standing directly in front of him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"Don't you see – we've been avoiding it for as long as we've known each other. It's like the white elephant in the middle of the room, never discussed but always evaded."

"What is this 'it' Harm?" She had a vague idea of where he was going with this conversation, but she refused to allow herself to get her hopes up, only to have them shattered once more. _My heart can only stand that so many times before it stays shattered for good._

He didn't want to be the one to say this, but he knew he had to bite the bullet – she certainly wouldn't. She'd done it too many times, only to have him repeatedly shoot her down in flames. "Our feelings for each other."

"Which feelings Harm?" Startling her into speech was his hand resting upon her cheek, softly stroking it and drawing her face closer to his.

"You know which feelings Mac." As he spoke he shortened the gap between their lips, pressing his to hers in a culmination of everything past. Finally giving in to their true feelings, every emotion ever felt between the two was evident in this kiss. Anger, frustration, exasperation, joy, delight, but most of all love.

Reluctantly, she began to pull away, and the two broke apart from their kiss for some much needed air. He picked up her hands from the side of her body, clasping them in his own and holding them to his chest.

"I love you Mac. I love you so much that it's killing me to be apart from you like this. The way things are now, it's almost worse than being actually physically separated from you. I see you every day, but I know that I can't touch you, or hold you, or kiss you. You're not mine, and that destroys me inside."

Overwhelmed by the heartfelt emotion in the words she'd so longed to hear, she began to tear up in her eyes, sniffling in her attempt to restrain herself from crying.

"I love you too – I've always been yours Harm. And I'm sick of sacrificing ourselves and our emotions when all it does is hurt us." She leaned in to kiss him, but paused in mid-air, resting her forehead on his, a mischievous grin playing about her features. "If I'd known that it would only take a slip of the tongue for you to realise this, I would've done it years ago!"

Cutting off her words, he pressed his lips firmly on hers, marking her as his own. It was evident that an unspoken agreement existed between the two – they were going to try to make this work, and nothing was going to stand in their way.

**The End!**

**Hey guys, hope you liked this – please review (good bad or otherwise), it makes me very happy and would be a fantastic Christmas present. By the way, Merry Christmas!**


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